


Dress to Transgress

by Mattycakes



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 08:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattycakes/pseuds/Mattycakes
Summary: Quark explores a new thing for lace. He buys it from Garak. (mainly Quark/Garak with hints of Quark/Odo. May do a Quark/Odo centric second chapter if can be arsed)(I hereby blame Spacebubble for getting me into Quark liking lace. But seriously check out their work)





	Dress to Transgress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacebubble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/gifts).

It wasn’t as if he was violating any Ferengi Taboos. That’s what Quark had been telling himself since he’d set out from his quarters on this personal mission. 

Now that he was in Garak’s tailor shop, his eyes roaming over the table of scant, lacy garments, he couldn’t help but blush, his ears warming from embarrassment even though the tailor was nowhere to be seen. 

Ferengi women traditionally didn’t wear anything, yet alone such intricate designs of lace and beading designed to arouse by means of barely passable concealment. But Quark had been on the station too long, he’d been with too many clothed species and he’d learned to appreciate lingerie in a way most males of his species could not. 

But even for humans, he worried this was pushing it too far. 

He turned to leave, abandon the whole idea as a disgusting notion that he couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to entertain – but as he turned to face the door, he found a certain Cardassian blocking his path. 

“Mr. Quark, always a pleasure,” Garak said smoothly, ignoring the way Quarks eyes bulged in panic as if he’d been caught shoplifting. “I’m afraid your jacket won’t be ready until Thursday, as I previously told you.”

“I see. Well, good day,” Quark said hurriedly, meaning to move past him and out of the shop before he died of embarrassment, but Garak still blocked his path to the narrow door. 

“Care to browse for something else, while you’re here?” Garak asked pointedly, his eyes flicking to the table of lingerie that Quark was now certain Garak had seen him purusing. Quark was certain his ears were visibly red.

“I was…never mind,” Quark said, damning the second glass of synthohol that had emboldened him to take this late evening shopping trip. “I should be getting back to the bar.”

“I thought it was your night off,” Garak said lightly, moving past Quark and towards the lacy undergarments, straightening the stack that Quark had disrupted moments ago. He looked sideways at the Ferengi with a knowing glance. 

“I shouldn’t leave my subordinates in charge,” Quark said breathlessly, unable to keep his gaze from flicking to the beaded black one piece he’d been skimming his fingers across– he was certain it would fit. “They’d rob me blind.”

“Mm,” Garak said, with a tone of disinterest. “Well, if that’s all then. But, we are having a sale at the moment,” he added, as Quark turned to leave. 

A sale. The Ferengi instinct in Quark brightened at the word. 

“Fifty percent off, seventy for the purchase of more than one item,” Garak wheedled, withdrawing and folding several pieces of lingerie into a separate stack. There was no such sale, of course, but Garak was a curious man and the fact that Quark had turned around and seemed unable to keep his eyes from darting to the stack of delicate lace was even curiouser. 

“I was… shopping for a friend,” Quark lied carefully, looking around as though he expected spies to come leaping from disguised locations all over the shop. “Something… something like this,” Quark said in a rush, gesturing wildly at the table of lingerie. 

“A friend,” Garak said lightly, folding the one piece and placing it neatly on top of the pile. “Well, let it never be said that the Ferengi are not generous. And what, may I ask, are you _friend’s_ measurements?” 

Quark hoped that however warm his ears might be feeling they at least looked their normal colour. “I don’t… I’m not exactly sure-” this was a bad idea, this was a _very bad_ idea.

Garak was growing impatient. “Mr. Quark, I should at this point let you know that tailor-client confidentiality is a bond I hold most sacred.” 

Quark held his breath for a moment, then released it with the words “My size. They’re… they’re roughly my size.”

Garak watched Quark with a disturbingly penetrating gaze for a long while, then with the casual professionalism of a tailor, he sifted neatly through the pile of lingerie, while Quark silently died on the inside. 

“I think _these,_” Garak said, holding up something Quark didn’t have the nerve to even look at directly “would fit just about right. Perhaps in a few colors. So your friend has something to choose from.”

Quark paid for his purchase and left, praying to the Blessed Exchequer that the tailor-client bond, as Garak called it, was as sacred as the Cardassian claimed. 

*

Quark had stuffed his purchase at the very back of his sock drawer, determined to forget about it, even incinerate it if necessary. He spent days watching his clients, certain to catch a snicker or snide comment that revealed Garaks’ betrayal or gossipy tongue. 

When none came, Quark found himself eyeing the discretely wrapped purchase every time he went to put on his socks in the morning. 

Then, finally, after a long shift at the bar, and after a couple of drinks and a soothing sonic shower, Quark had the nerve to withdraw it, unwrap it, and examine the contents. 

They were simple, as simple as Quark would have expected for the low price he had paid. The same set of underwear, in several colors, but it was the one at the top that most caught Quark’s eye. A deep red, almost black, with a faint shimmer that caught in the light. _Panties_, the word came floating from deep in the back of Quark’s mind, and from memories of encounters that made his lobes tingle. He’d liked them on the offworld females he’d come to know via the multicultural hub of the station. He’d wondered how they’d feel against his own skin, how he’d look wrapped up in such delicately beautiful patterns.

He held the garment out against his naked body, unable to stop himself twisting around to make sure the door to his quarters was definitely shut. 

They were the right size, that much he could tell. But could he actually put them on?

The lace was soft against Quark’s legs as he stepped into them, and he gasped at the texture. He was painfully aware of the fact that what he was doing was in contrast to taboos of almost every culture he could think of and that knowledge was already making him hard. When he finally snapped the elastic over himself, the intricate fabric was stretched to its limits over his rock solid arousal, and Quark’s stomach was thrumming. 

He could get used to this. 

_The mirror_, Quark thought suddenly, hesitating. He didn’t know if he had the nerve. Years of Ferengi upbringing had ingrained him against being anything close to naked, and what he was wearing right now seemed somehow worse, and therefore _better_. With a deep breath, Quark turned to face the reflective glass in his quarters and his knees nearly buckled at the image he made. 

He didn’t know if he never, ever wanted to be seen like this, or if he desperately _wanted_ to be seen like this. 

What he did know is that he wanted to come. 

He backed up towards his bed, falling back when he knew the mattress would catch him. He rarely allowed himself to feel the caress of his sheets on his bare skin, preferring to sleep in his traditional pajama that covered him from head to toe. He had, on occasion, indulged in lying naked in his bed as he touched himself and even _that_ had felt scandalous, against all traditions he’d grown to hold sacred. Somehow, this small piece of lace being all that held him back from complete nudity, felt even more obscene. 

He felt the outline of his erection through the intricate swirls of embroidery, stifling a moan when he felt that he’d already dampened the front with excitement. He dared to imagine a lover that might appreciate toying with him through this garment, teasing him before pulling the fabric aside and-

Quark gasped as his erection sprung effortlessly through the side of his panties, throbbing in relief of being freed from its silky confines. He wrapped one hand around himself, the other reaching for an ear as he wriggled softly on his bed and relished in the sinfully delectable feeling of his silken, lacy purchase rubbing against everything his hand wasn’t touching. 

His arousal goading him on, Quark dared to imagine someone else doing this to him, whispering dirty words about how sweet he looked, how good he felt, how much they wanted to see him make a mess of such a beautiful item of clothing. The gender of his partner didn’t matter, was interchangeable in his mind. He could certainly imagine Rionoj enjoying seeing Quark like this, could imagine her pulling his cock through the lacy sides of his panties and riding him until he screamed. He could imagine her on top of him, holding him down and soaking the fabric in her own wetness before he added to the underwear’s ruin with his own climax. She’d probably be up for it, too, Quark thought excitedly, speeding up his hand and wondering if he’d ever have the nerve to actually ask her. Quark whimpered, his hand on his cock tightening and the hand on his ear moving faster, grinding his rear into the mattress and feeling every intricate pattern of the fabric’s delicate design.

Quark lost himself in the vision of a partner, any partner, using their finger to pull the lace even further aside to reveal every part of Quark to a hungry tongue or finger, or even a cock, and suddenly Quark was coming, agonizingly hard. He could feel his emission splattering against his stomach and even lower, staining his panties and in his mind he heard the appreciative groan of a lover who took satisfaction in watching Quark soil his lovely, lacy garment. 

A few seconds more and it was over and Quark lay panting in a mess, his hand and stomach cooling from the come. Shaking, he eased himself out of his new underwear, cock twitching half-heartedly at the unbidden notion of someone sliding them off for him for something more. 

Quark crawled under his covers, torn between the notions of putting on his pajamas, or going for a second round, or taking a sonic shower. But he hadn’t come that hard in a while and the next thing he knew he was asleep. 

*

Over the next few weeks, Quark took a secret thrill in wearing his purchases under his clothes to work. Speaking to everyone, to Bashir, to Dax, even to Odo while knowing that under his typical attire he was wearing soft, lacy underthings offered a certain excitement he would never have dared to imagine and he went home with a knot in his stomach that could only be undone through rigorous touching. 

On one of these days, Garak himself appeared in his bar, watching Quark carefully as he denied to Odo the shipment of a highly illegal substance that Quark had definitely in part facilitated the arrival of onto the station. On this day, Quark was wearing the sky blue set of lacy underwear, which had looked rather fetching if Quark did say so himself, and between the piercing gazes of Odo and Garak, Quark actually worried he would come undone on the spot. 

Garak knew, of course he knew, Quark thought in equal parts terror and delight. As Odo threatened and berated, Quark had a panicked instinct that Garak would come striding over and tell Odo _exactly_ what Quark was wearing under his usual attire and for one dizzying moment Quark imagined the two stern men dragging him to the stock room and undoing his clothes to prove it. Quark’s ears practically tingled for want of stimulation as he imagined the changeling and the Cardassian taking turns in touching Quark through his lightly colored lacy underwear, pulling it aside to explore everything underneath for their own pleasure…

“Quark?” Odo snapped, clicking his fingers in front of the Ferengi’s face and snapping him out of his daydream.

“Huh?” Quark blinked and tore his eyes from Garak’s knowing stare. “I heard you,” Quark lied harshly, gratified when Odo looked genuinely blank as though he couldn’t figure out Quark’s train of thought. “If you don’t have enough to arrest me, I guess we’re done here,” Quark said in a hurry before giving himself the afternoon off and waddling back to his quarters with a painful erection that could only be sated by a hurried, self-administered hand-job through his trousers and the lacy blue underwear.

As he climaxed, he thought about how he was certain Garak knew exactly what he was wearing under his clothes, and how far he wanted to push that knowledge. 

* 

“Ah, Mr. Quark. Back again. How did your _friend_ like their gift?” Garak said, not looking over his shoulder as Quark entered the tailor shop the next day. It was blessedly empty, but it didn’t stop Quark from looking around to make sure. 

“She… they liked it very much,” Quark said carefully, but firmly. He wasn’t going to let Garak think he had him figured out, even though he very clearly had. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Garak said airily. “I have that jacket for you, by the way,” he added, already going to the back room to fetch it. “Unless there’s anything else?” he added suggestively. “Something more for your friend, perhaps?”

“Yes, I…” Quark cleared his throat. This was ridiculous. He was a known ladies man and Garak had no right to think he was doing anything other than purchasing a gift for one of the many ladies Quark courted. “I’d like to buy something else,” he said firmly, daringly. Garak smirked, impressed by the Ferengi’s boldness. 

“Anything in particular in mind?” Garak asked, and Quark tried to ignore the way he was sure Garak’s voice had dropped an octave, to a pitch that made Quark’s cock twitch interestedly. 

“There was something I saw last time I was here… some kind of black one piece with… beads.” Quark’s cock was now steadily filling at the mere thought of it, at how he would look and feel in such a garment. It would cost a few strips of latinum, of this he was sure, but he couldn’t care less. It would be worth it. 

“Ah yes,” Garak almost purred, moving to his lingerie table to withdraw the item in question. “A most lovely piece if I do say so myself. Sadly, it fails to capture the desired _effect_ if not measured correctly.”

“Measured?” Quark asked weakly, his blood starting to thrum as he recognized the item in Garak’s hands. 

Garak tutted. “The art of lingerie, Mr. Quark, is to ensure that even the smallest slip of fabric flatters the body. If your _friend_ would consent to a fitting, I could ensure that this lovely item highlights them in all the best ways?” Garak made it sound like a question, but his piercing glance made it feel like anything but. 

“I don’t…” Quark cleared his throat. “I don’t know that they’d be willing to do a fitting with you Garak.”

“Well, you said you’re a close fit,” Garak said, stepping forwards until he himself was quite close. “Perhaps you’d be willing to stand in their place?”

Quark’s cock had progressed from interested twitching and was now completely hard, but Quark suspected, hell he _knew_, that Garak was perfectly aware of that. 

What was Quark doing? What the _hell_ was he doing?

“If… you think that would work,” Quark found himself saying dazedly, accepting the slip of fabric into his hand before he could quite process what he’d agreed to. 

Garak smiled, in a way that seemed more like a predator sizing up his prey than anything else. 

“Changing room one, if you please,” he said in a voice that was nothing short of a purr. 

Quark nodded, and stepped behind the curtain into one of the small changing rooms before he lost his nerve. Even as his blood pounded through his veins with excitement, that little voice kept screaming _what the hell are you doing_.

Quark chose not to listen to it. 

*

It felt heavenly. Soft, silken, every nook and cranny caressing Quark’s skin in ways he’d only dreamed. 

Surely, _surely_ there was no way Garak was going to let him get away with not purchasing this item. Not with the way it was digging into his most intimate spots, not with the way it clung to his naked body, not with the wet patches of arousal Quark had already seeped into it. 

It was ruined and he hadn’t even bought it yet. 

He _would_ buy it of course. That wasn’t even up for discussion. Nothing had ever hugged his body like this, had made him feel so decadent and yet so powerful. Quark couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror and every time he ran his eyes up and down his mirrored body he only grew even more aroused. The black lace, beaded with glittering stones that only sat where they wouldn’t dig into his flesh, made him look like a beautiful present that one almost didn’t want to unwrap but also wanted to, because surely such a beautifully wrapped gift contained even better treasures. 

“Mr. Quark?” Garak’s voice was too clear, too close and Quark jumped as he realized only a thin curtain separated his scandalous image from another being. “I’d like to take your measurements now?”

Quark blushed, eyeing his cock, clearly hard through the lace. “I don’t think that would be necessary. It fits just fine.” Quark said, unable to keep his hand from trailing over the fabric over his groin. He just wanted to take his purchase home so he could come. 

“I meant what I said,” Garak insisted. “The garment will be much more _satisfactory_ if tailored appropriately.”

Quark swallowed. He couldn’t imagine the garment being any more satisfactory than it currently was. 

“I don’t…” Quark started, his head spinning as he tried to concoct a lie that would cover the truth. _I’d love for you to make this even better than it is, but I don’t actually know for sure if you can handle measuring me while I’m solid as a rock. _

“Mr. Quark, I assure you that as a tailor any… _reactions_ you may have to new fabrics are nothing I haven’t seen before,” Garak said patiently, and Quark swallowed. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, Quark knew exactly where this was headed, and was even desperately excited for this incident to progress. The conscious, cognizant part of Quark’s brain chose to suggest that this was a measurement from an experienced tailor and nothing more, and considering both parts of his mind seemed to want the same thing, Quark found himself rasping “Okay. You can come in.”

The curtain swished aside and then closed again behind the Cardassian that now stood behind Quark, appraising him in the mirror. Quark hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until Garak placed a hand on his shoulder and Quark released it in a shaky exhale. 

“Exquisite,” Garak said softly and Quark bit back the moan that threatened to escape. “Relax, Quark,” Garak withdrew a device that Quark assumed was some sort of measuring tool, although it proved to be much more than that. Each time Garak held the electronic device over some aspect of where the fabric met Quark’s body, it would beep and hum and Quark would _feel_ the garment itself either tighten or loosen on command. It was some kind of automatic sewing machine. 

By the time Garak was done, Quark could hardly believe he was wearing the same outfit. He’d thought he’d looked good _before_, but now each curve and contour only seemed to flatter each ridge of his body. Garak was truly good at what he did. And, true to his word, he had with utmost professionalism, ignored the hard ridge of Quark’s arousal. 

Until now.

Quark’s breathing hitched as Garak lowered his device to where his hard cock was leaking against the lacy fabric. He stuttered out a moan as Garak made the final adjustment, and Quark’s privates were precisely caught between an ecstasy of confinement and caress, the perfect balance. 

“I could make this tighter,” Garak breathed, almost deliberately into Quark’s ear, sending shivers down the Ferengi’s spine. “If the _person_ for whom this garment is intended is female I probably should.”

Quark shook his head urgently. “No, it’s perfect,” Quark hissed, blinking back tears with the admission. There was no point pretending it wasn’t for him, Garak clearly knew, and he daren’t allow the Cardassian to change a thing.

Garak hummed his approval, running a scaled finger up and along Quark’s side. “A fine piece of work indeed,” he said softly, and Quark felt he wasn’t just talking about the lingerie. He keened, an involuntary sound, as Garak’s finger moved along his shoulder and towards his ear. This was more than Quark had ever dared hope for, that he might wear something like this _with someone. _

Quark felt Garak step closer behind him, and gasped as he felt a familiar sensation against his back, a warm hardness through layers of fabric.  
Quark jutted his hips back without really thinking, into that evidence of Garak’s arousal, and the tailor made a sound like a snarl that Quark had learned was synonymous with Cardassian arousal, so he did it again. A thrill shot up Quark’s spine as he realized exactly what was going to happen; they were going to fuck, right here in this dressing room, with Quark wearing the most erotic thing he’d ever put on his body. Quark whimpered, arching his head against the ridges of Garak’s neck, eager to start, to erase all points of return. 

Quark closed his eyes, but a sudden firm grip on his chin made him open them again. 

“Look,” Garak hissed, turning him forcefully to face himself in the mirror. “Look at the picture you make.”

With some effort, Quark focused his gaze on his reflection, and let out a gasping moan as he saw in full the image of himself, clad in his lacy attire, his cock clearly hard and dripping behind the pitiful shroud of scant fabric. Quark saw his own desperation in his face as he raked his eyes back up, and when he flicked his eyes across to meet Garak’s glare in the mirror he saw only merciless lust reflected back at him. Quark whimpered, fighting the urge to close his eyes again as he felt himself leak even more into the already wet front of Garak’s craftsmanship. 

“Perhaps a little information about this item,” Garak said in a soft and dangerous tone, hand detaching from Quark’s chin to run down the front of Quark’s chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “This bead _here_,” Garak fondled one of the beads near Quark’s crotch and Quark couldn’t help his hips from bucking forwards, “is actually a button.” 

With one smooth, assured gesture, Garak flicked the button open and the pattern of lace barely covering the crotch of Quark’s garment unsnapped, freeing Quark’s cock easily and Quark let out a startled noise as his cock was suddenly exposed entirely. Garak’s face didn’t change as he kept running his hand over Quark’s skin, down his thigh, coming back up to caress Quark’s hard flesh. Quark’s eyes rolled back in his head, but a nip on his ear reminded him to _keep looking_ and Quark refocused his gaze on his reflection. 

“There’s also a slit,” Garak said, his voice dropping as his hand dipped behind, running down the small of Quark’s back towards his crevice. “Right about _here,_” and Quark cried out as Garak’s fingers found their way towards his most intimate spot. He opened his legs, keening for further access, but the sudden sound of the tailor shop door opening made Quark stop, his heart hammering in the region of his throat. 

“Garak? Are you here?” It was Odo, Quark would know that voice anywhere. His breathing halted, as did Garak’s fingers, and for one horrible moment Quark was certain Odo was going to catch him exactly like this, wearing this scandalous one piece, with Garak’s hand tangled up in between his legs.

“I’m measuring a customer, Odo, is this urgent?” Garak snapped, and to Quark’s pleasure and horror, Garak continued to slide his fingers in between Quark’s legs, feeling the natural slickness of the vestigial Ferengi organ that sat just behind Quark’s cock. Quark bit his lip, trying not to make a sound as Garak teased at his opening, not penetrating but rubbing insistently to make Quark know that he had found it. 

“Not urgent, no,” Odo called back, and Quark’s opening throbbed at his voice and at Garak’s touch. Quark glanced at Garak in the mirror and saw that his face had become decidedly interested at feeling Quark’s reaction to Odo’s voice. Quark shook, in arousal and terror, wondering what Garak would do with that information. “But we have some troubling information from Cardassian intelligence and it does concern you, possibly.”

“I see. Well, I have a job to finish here,” Garak called back good naturedly, sliding two long fingers up inside Quark’s body, and Quark bit his lip hard enough to bleed to keep himself from screaming, “so unless you’d like to come inside and help me,” Quark bore down as he imagined Odo doing just that, “I’ll have to pop down later in the day.”

Garak was sliding his fingers in and out of Quark’s body now, and Quark had sagged against the mirror, his legs as open as he could manage as Garak leisurely finger fucked him from behind. A part of Quark was almost desperate for the highly unlikely scenario of Odo pulling apart that curtain on Garak mid-fitting, on seeing Quark stripped and impaled on Garak’s fingers, on demanding a turn himself. Quark dared to imagine what it would feel like having two sets of hands fighting to insert themselves in his body and suddenly Quark clenched down hard and silently rode out his climax on Garak’s busy fingers as Odo made a hurrumphing noise behind the other side of the curtain. 

“I’ll be expecting you this afternoon,” Odo growled as Quark erupted all over the mirror. Quark was stifling his breath through a clenched jaw, and for a second he thought he may actually pass out, but then through his post coital haze Quark registered the sound of the tailor shop doors opening and closing, signaling Odo’s departure, and finally Quark felt free to audibly gasp for air. 

“Look at that,” Garak breathed, pulling his fingers from Quark’s body and Quark obediently turned his glance downward to see the splatter of come on the mirror and the single thread of slick that connected his body to Garak’s fingers. His thighs shook with the sight of it, and then again with the sight of Garak lining up his reptilian cock with the exposed flesh of his entrance. 

“So wet,” Garak murmured appreciatively, taking a moment to slide the head of his cock through the river of slick that Quark’s orgasm had generated, scooting past his entrance again and again in a way that was driving Quark wild. “So sweet, and warm, and slick for me.” 

“Just do it already,” Quark managed to snap, pushing his hips back against Garak’s erection, trapping the head at the first point of entry. Garak gasped indignantly as the head of his cock was snared, then with a predatory growl he kept pushing forwards until Quark was crying out with the sensation of being utterly run through. Garak, ever the gentleman, gave Quark a few long moments to adjust to the girth impaling him, grinding softly against Quark’s behind as he continued murmuring dirtily in his ear. 

“You liked that he walked in,” Garak was accusing in an approving voice. “I think you were hoping that he’d walk in even further.” Garak made a sudden, short thrust that made Quark yelp in pleasure. 

“Would you have liked it?” _Thrust_. “Him seeing you like this?” _Thrust._ “The constable and I taking turns doing this to you?” _Thrust_

Quark was past shame, and he could only moan in assent at the accusations and the wet noises that accompanied them. “Yes, I liked it, I like it, don’t stop,” Quark was babbling as his cock bounced between them and their reflected forms, throbbing excitedly with the prospect of a second climax. Garak sped up his movements, his careful air and dirty suggestions dissolving into urgent, animal noises that signaled the rapid approach of his own pleasure. The idea that Garak was going to come inside him spurred on Quark’s arousal, and he found himself thrusting back and meeting every movement, his sensitive ears greedily drinking in the squelching, slapping sounds of their bodies meeting and the Cardassian’s increasingly urgent vocalizations. 

Suddenly and without warning, Garak’s hand shot out to seize Quark’s cock in a tight, claiming grip at the same moment Garak’s mouth descended upon the outer ridge of Quark’s ear. Quark turned his gaze to the soiled mirror to see Garak’s screwed, almost pained expression as he felt hot wetness splash inside of him. Quark’s eyes darted to where Garak’s grey, scaled cock met Quark’s body and the lacy garment that was at this point soaked in sweat and saw the first dribbles of Garak’s come leak out of the point where their bodies met. The sight and feeling of Garak dripping out of him made Quark clamp down hard and howl out his second orgasm, with Garak valiantly thrusting and moving his hand to push Quark through it.

When the waves of pleasure died down, Quark realized he was leaning back against Garak’s torso, and that the tailor had somehow managed to hold the both of them up while bracing against the changing room wall.

“I take it,” Garak said smoothly as Quark floated down from his high, “That you will be purchasing this garment?”

Quark managed an exhausted chuckle, eyes flitting open to take in the absolutely soaked piece of fabric clinging to his body. “Yes, I think so,” he said softly, his cock giving a visible spasm of agreement. 

“Might I suggest,” Garak added, slipping his hand down Quark’s body to obscenely caress Quark’s spent, dripping member “that you purchase this in several colors.” His voice dropped an octave. “I for one believe this would look best in red.”

Quark whimpered as his sensitive cock was caressed through his own slickeness. He knew what Garak was doing, using his disorientated state to score a better sale. For any other species it might have been insulting, but for a Ferengi there was no stronger aphrodisiac than knowing he was being manipulated by a master businessman. 

“Yes,” Quark panted, as his cock twitched and pulsed a final spasm and half hearted dribble under Garak’s bare hand. Garak massaged Quark to an almost oversensitive completion and then withdrew with a professional air. 

“Excellent,” he praised, raising his hand to Quark’s mouth, who was licking it clean before he quite knew what had gotten into him. “I look forward to taking your measurements for those items. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to leave this with me,” Garak was already slipping the straps off Quark’s shoulders. “I daresay you’ll be wanting it cleaned.”

*

Odo heard the sound of Quark laughing in agreement from where he was shapeshifted as one of Garak’s mannequins. He’d only been trying to disprove to himself that the Cardassian was not in fact hosting secret intelligence meetings in his shop. Hopefully neither the Ferengi or the Cardassian would notice the addition to Garak’s stock when the curtain parted.


End file.
